Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Pure Temptation Release Sale

So excited to announce that Pure Temptation is released. The first week of release I am having a release sale. Get Pure Temptation for just $0.99 (Normal $3.99) this week only.

Download it here:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1hZ8qlS

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1bOoRMV

Barnes&Noble: http://bit.ly/18xk97W

Friday, December 13, 2013

Pure Temptation update and blurb

I had hoped that I could upload Pure Temptation this weekend, but my editor had a slight delay. She now promised me that I will have the finished manuscript in my hands Sunday, so if everything goes as planned, I can upload the book to Amazon and Barnes & Nobel on Monday.
I am absolutely sure you will love the book. I am so excited about it.

The fascination of all things forbidden 
ignites pure temptation.

What would you do if you found a briefcase filled with 250,000 dollars? When the financially struggling college student, Danielle Carrington, stumbles upon just such a briefcase in a sleazy hotel room in Manhattan, she can’t resist the temptation.

She takes the money but soon discovers that it is connected to a deadly underground street fighting cartel. Fearing her life is in danger, Danielle jumps on the ‘Grey dog’ and heads south, ending up in a cozy beach town in South Carolina. There she meets the handsome twenty-four year old Harley rider, John Connors.

Dazzled by John’s sexy looks and hot tattoos, she finds herself once again tempted, this time with her heart at stake. Not until a bombshell of a secret reveals itself does she realize that the cartel is closing in on the money, putting not only her own life, but everyone else's, in danger.

Pure Temptation is a suspenseful New Adult Romance that will have you reading
into the wee hours of the night.

Friday, December 6, 2013

Pure Temptation Cover Reveal and Prologue-Chapter 1

I'm excited to share with you the cover to my upcoming romance, Pure Temptation as well as the beginning of the book. Please note that this is not yet proof edited so there will be a few mistakes. Hope you'll like it.

Pure Temptation
Tempted 1
Eve Carter


I hate the taste of blood. It’s a testament to the fact that I was still working in a suck-ass profession. My jaw ached like a mother from all the punches and kicks I had taken. It was a damn miracle my entire head hadn’t been shattered into a million pieces. It just felt as if it had been, right now. But the pain from my sore head was nothing compared to what was being inflicted on me now as the man standing over me poked my chest.
“For Christ’s sake, Mike, stop poking me.”
He removed his hands from my chest. “Luke, you have three broken ribs. You should praise yourself lucky that you are still alive.” He groaned and shook his head. Mike, “The Fixer,” Hammond had been salvaging my body after my fights for years. “I keep stitching you up and you keep getting hurt. You know living this way is a one way ticket to hell, right?”
I snorted. “We are all on a God damn one way ticket, Mike. The only question is when do we get off? Just stitch me up, will you? I can’t stand the smell of this shithole locker room.”
Before Mike could finish patching me up and before I could get my ass off his table, someone kicked open the door. It swung wide and within seconds a very angry and very contorted face loomed over mine.
“What the fuck was that out there, Luke. I thought I told you to take a dive tonight. You just cost me fucking two-hundred and fifty thousand, you punk ass son of a bitch. I ought to crush your balls myself right now. ”
“Go fuck yourself, Bruno.” I glared at him and spit on the ground. Nobody else dared talk to him like that. They wouldn’t live to see the next day.
“Don’t you forget who you’re talking to, buddy. I’m the one who calls the shots around here. I’m the one who tells assholes like you what to do in this business. The underground fight circuit is your life and bread, and I own your sorry ass, Renegade. Don’t you forget it,” he shouted in my face, red veins popping out of his neck. He paced a few steps, one hand shoved in his pant pocket and the other one frantically tugging loose his tie. With his gray suit jacket flying open, he leaned in, still shouting, “You should’ve taken that dive, damn it!”
“I freaking tried,” I barked back. Bruno Costello was a pit-bull off the chain and not the kind of man anyone dared to cross, but what he had asked me to do tonight was fucking crazy.
“Some fight premotor you are. You should’ve told the other guy about the plan; he almost killed me out there!” My blood was boiling and my voice went up a decibel with each word. I knew I was treading a fine line with Bruno but I was much younger and stronger than him. Even in my condition right now, I knew if those balled up fists at his side came my way, I could take him. “I had to fight back or I would’ve never been able to walk, much less fight again.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Bruno hammered his fist into the locker with each word then pointed a fat finger in my face “You better make this up to me, Luke. You owe me. This was a quarter of a million dollars.”
Bruno’s face was blood red and the veins of his temples popped out of his receding hairline. Oh, I was fucked so bad.
 “It’s not my damn fault. What was I supposed to do?”
“Keep your end of the deal.” He said between gritted teeth.
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think. You have to fix this.”
I shrugged and winced in pain as I tried to shake my head in disbelief.
He grabbed my jaw with his claw of a hand almost spitting in my face, “I want you to get my money back and I always get what I want.”
“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” I spat back
“I don’t give two fucks how you do it. Steal it back, for Christ’s sake!” He screamed into my train wreck of a face. His yelling wasn’t helping calm the sledge hammer of a headache I had pounding out what was left of my brains.
Bruno pulled back and opened his coat jacket to reach for something in the inside pocket. I thought I was toast, bloody, fucking toast. When he pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped his sweaty head with it, my shoulders relaxed. I supposed Bruno’s blood pressure was sky high by now, as he paced the floor and spoke.
“If I know Franco, that God damn son of a bitch bookie, he’s on his way to bang out some young pussy and celebrate his two-hundred and fifty thousand dollar win. Find him and lighten the fucking load in his pocket.”
Was he serious? I wanted to bitch slap that fat fucker and watch him stroke out all over the floor. From the looks of him, he was only a few short artery clogging salami sandwiches away from a heart attack anyway. It wouldn’t take much to send him into cardiac arrest right now. “Look…Mr. Costello, I’m a fighter, not a damn thief. I can’t just steal the money from the guy.”
He leaned over, his head was close to my face and I could smell the stench of whiskey and stale cigar smoke on his breath. Fresh beads of sweat had erupted along his brow and when he spoke into my ear in a whisper his voice was icy cold. “You better rethink that notion right now, or else our special friendship could see a very quick end…especially for you, champ.”
He stood up, pushed his tie back up and strode out of the room.
This night had just gone from crap to freaking shit. My options were slim to none and things were leaning heavily towards the ‘none’ side. I had no other choice; I would have to get the money back.
Mike had floated to the corner of the room like he had been blown there like a balloon when Bruno stormed in. He knew his place in this organization and knew when to make himself scares. “Mike, you know Franco Gianni, the bookie, somewhat, right? Do you know where he usually hangs out after a big win?”
He sighed. “Luke, you know I love you like my little brother but I can’t get involved, man. I got a wife and kids and these guys are not kidding around. I value my life too much.”
“I know, Mike. I’m sorry but if I don’t get that money back, you know what he’ll do. I mean, if he does something to me, you wouldn’t be able to live with that, would you? We’re practically family, right? I’d do the same for you, man.” I looked straight into his eyes.
He threw his hands into the air, knowing it was a losing battle. “Okay, I heard he sometimes likes to party with the ladies around Frampton Street, but don’t let anyone know I told you, got it?”
“My lips are sealed, Mike. Thanks buddy, I owe you one.” I groaned and with restricted motion, slipped off the table, giving Mike a pat on the shoulder as I went. The slightest movement hurt like hell, but I had gotten the information that I needed. How the fuck did I get myself into this predicament?  I’m not a damn thief, or one of the cartel’s idiot goons that roughs up guys. Whatever. I would need to get to Franco’s little private party before its happy ending. I knew exactly where he would be tonight and as much as I hated this dirty deed, it had to be done.

Chapter 1

Earlier that same evening.
“I can’t believe I let you two talk me into this.” My words were lost in the swell of cheering voices although I shouted them in the direction of my two girlfriends, Joey and Krissy. My breath withered as it came out of me. I realized even my loudest voice was no competition for this cacophony of sound. And my timing was off. I turned to talk right when the brute in the cage landed a savage kick, directly on the side of his opponent’s bloody face, sending him straight to the canvas. I wondered for a moment if the beast would leave a blood spatter trail of footprints all over the white canvas fighting ring after putting his foot into the guy’s crimson stained cheek. It didn’t end there and I didn’t know if I had the stomach to keep watching.
The fighter in the red shorts pummeled his opponent with brutal jabs and blows and seized upon him in a flash, pinning the guy to the deck, hammering explosive fists repeatedly in his face while pinning him down with his legs. I was no expert at fights but it sure as hell seemed like the brute had an unfair advantage over his opponent.
The referee didn’t intervene; it appeared he was allowing this mayhem to happen. There was a fine line in these kinds of fights between the sport and just plain unrestrained evil, or so it seemed to me. I had never been to this kind of an event and I was astounded by what I saw. But what looked like violence to me apparently was not to everybody else surrounding me. I looked at Joey for understanding.  Her eyes were focused on the fighters and the expression on her face seemed to be a mixture of enjoyment and amusement. I jerked on Joey’s arm and yelled, “He’s killing him! Doesn’t anybody care? Do they let this kind of thing just happen?”
Once again, the deafening roar swept my words and my concerns away. Joey laughed and her long dark pony tail bobbed. She cheered louder, practically jumping up and down as she gave me a playful shove off with a look on her face like I was the crazy one in the scenario unfolding in front of us. It sure looked like a man was getting killed in public, in front of hundreds of onlookers and no one seemed to care. Was this blistering violence supposed to be entertainment for people? The look of pleasure on my friend’s face confirmed my suspicions. 
What was I thinking coming here to witness this barbaric display of aggression? I wasn’t cut out for this type of sport, if you can call it a sport. I took it to heart. The moment Joey had pleaded with me to escort her and Krissy to an underground cage fight in an undisclosed factory building the Bronx, I should have realized it was something that would make me sick to my stomach. And I was literally sick… about to throw up on the spot. The sight of blood always did that to me. And all this so Joey could see some guy again, one she had met last weekend...Jimmy something. Apparently he works for one of the fight promoters. He must be pretty high up because he managed to get the three of us on the list at the door. Joey was going to owe me a whole dozen of Krispy Kreme donuts for this one.
But I always caved for my friends, Joey and Krissy. They were the kind of friends a girl like me could just dream of getting. Popular and well-liked by everybody. Joey was the down to earth and level headed girl. Krissy was sweet as pie and the kind of person who wanted to take in every stray cat she found wandering the back alleys. However, their lot in life was a more financially stable one than mine as they came from families with more money than anybody could ever count. I, on the other hand, was raised by my grandmother, but not because of any noble reason, like my parents died in a tragic accident while saving the lives of babies in a third world country. No, I was raised by my Grammy, who spent most of her life cleaning hotel rooms for a living, because the bottle was more important to my mother than I was. But it pushed me to overcome the challenges, study hard, receive a scholarship and go to college. Make Grammy proud of me.
Unable to watch the fight my gaze flickered around the large hall. The dank gray walls of this place opened into high ceilings that looked like the gaping jaws of a whale ready to swallow us all whole. The establishment looked more like an illegitimate business than a sports facility and not to mention that it was located in a shady and clandestine part of town. The building in which I stood, next to my hyperventilating and screaming friends, was a converted factory building. It was packed with at least five hundred cheering, blood thirsty fans, eager to see the bright red proof of dominance gush from an eye or a nose, standing on metal bleachers that surrounded a fighting cage set up in the center of the place.
The crowd of spectators was made up of a contrast of types, however most of them were men. The young ones clustered in groups, buddies, peacocking, and jeering at the fighters with spit and vigor, like they could do a better job if only the referee would let them into the cage. The older men bellowed profanities confident that the adrenaline in their system could bring back the vitality of youth. Even they imagined they could knock a guy out with one punch, if only they could be let into the cage. But much to my surprise, as I swiveled my head to scan the room for an exit, there was a fair amount of women in the mix. Young women, young pretty girls, with long flowing hair and pouty red lips, who came to lust after the muscular fighters in the ring. Maybe I just didn’t get this hot fighter guy appeal. But then, I’ve always felt I was not the typical girl. Unlike them, I didn’t consider myself the type to be easily swayed by a strong jaw and six-pack abs. I needed more from a guy than just a hard body and tattoos.
I shook my head as I looked at all the people around me, consumed with watching the violence before their eyes, enthralled with the blood being spattered and smeared all over the cage. Blood seems to hold a bizarre and intriguing fascination for them. A kind of mysterious allure to seeing bodily fluids come oozing out of a human body, as if seeing it is proof that we are alive. Or maybe it’s proof that there’s truth in the saying that we’re all the same on the inside. We can look at it and realize that, despite the masks we wear on the outside, we all bleed the same blood.
The pressure in my bladder was signaling me to find the exit and on top of that, my stomach couldn’t take much more of this glorified torture. I tugged on Joey’s elbow and leaned into her ear and shouted. “Going to the restroom.”
I stood up and slung my purse over my shoulder. Krissy caught my movement out of the corner of her eye and leaned forward to look over at me. Her long red curls fell forward with her and she swept it all to one side as she shouted, “Dani, where are you going?” I mouthed the words, “Gotta pee,” using ridiculous hand gestures like I was a French mime, pointing in all directions to a door, wherever that was.
I finally made my way through the sweaty audience to the hallway where I turned my head in a 180 sweep to spot a restroom sign. No sooner had I found it, and was about to yank on the door knob, when a robust woman burst through the door, fanning her face with a tissue and nearly tripped over me. I caught the door with one hand and let her pass in front of me.
“You don’t want to go in there, hon, it’s totally flooded.”
I pushed the door open to take a peek inside but the putrid smell hit me straight on. The odor was so strong I think my nose hairs got singed. I gagged and reeled backward in disgust. 
I quickly let the door swing shut and strode off to find another option, my bulging bladder now screaming at me to hurry up. The only other door in the converted lobby area looked like a good choice. It must lead backstage into the locker rooms. I was pretty sure there would be another restroom inside but the entrance was being guarded by a not so friendly looking bouncer the size of Mt. Rushmore.
Shit, I really need to pee now.
Lady Luck smiled on me and the bouncer’s attention was drawn by an argument between two extremely drunk tatted up dudes near the front entrance. It was just the opening I needed to sneak backstage.
Once through the door, I found myself in a narrow empty hallway, lit by a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. I spotted a restroom at the other end. From my vantage point I noticed an open doorway I had to pass to get to my destination. Walking softly, I crept down the dimly lit hall. As I approached the threshold of the doorway I could see straight into a locker room. I intended to slip past the opening as quickly as possible but once there, I heard panting noises coming from inside. Curiosity got the best of me and I had to take a closer look.
I froze, mesmerized by what I saw and I lingered just long enough to see a muscular man, a fighter no doubt, lying almost naked on a massage table. An attractive Asian woman dressed in all white was intently focused on kneading the muscles of his right shoulder. She stood with her back to me working her small hands over the tan skin of his well-defined upper back and shoulder muscles. As she worked she stepped aside giving me a better view of his magnificent upper torso, the part not draped with a white towel. Her hands trailed along his right shoulder and moved down his back unveiling a rather unusual large tribal tattoo with two dragon heads. The two dragons covering the upper back swirled in opposite directions, like a Yin Yang symbol. My pulse quickened and an adrenaline rush surged all the way down to my toes. I wanted to stay here and enjoy the view of his body, in spite of the fact that I could get caught. That was strange. I never allowed myself this kind of reaction to hot guys. I usually kept my emotions in check. I mean, I can appreciate a hard body as much as the next girl but in my experience, these types were pretty much all brawn and no brains. I was never going to allow myself to end up like my mom. Destroyed and abused, driven to alcoholism, just because she fell for some hot guy who later dumped her like she was a piece of trash. No way. Besides, I hadn’t been struggling to pay for years of college just to hook up with another good looking playboy. I knew it was best not to get all giggly over eye-candy like the fifty-million screaming women out front. That would get me nowhere. Yet, here I found myself drooling over some muscular back and a tat.
I slapped my hand to my forehead, “Snap out of it, Dani,” and hurried past the doorway towards the restroom. Thank God he had his face turned away from the door. I didn’t need any more unsolicited distractions right now that my body was reacting like a giddy school girl. Good thing I only saw the back of his head and…oh God, why was I drooling over him?
After finishing my business, I exited the restroom feeling much better. I abruptly came face to face with the Asian woman who had been giving the tattooed fighter a massage. She raked me up and down with a suspicious glare. “You know you can’t be backstage without your pass showing at all times. I don’t remember seeing you here before. Who are you?”
“Oh, I’m Lola…Frank’s new assistant. Didn’t you hear? First night on the job. Sorry, I left my badge in the office. Gotta run before he starts yelling at me for slacking, but nice meeting you.”
Before she could start asking questions about who the hell my imaginary boss Frank was, I hightailed it out of the backstage area into the safety of the roaring fans of the MMA.
I blended into a small group of rowdy spectators passing by and slipped back inside the arena, happy to have avoided a nasty situation with the rugged bouncer. He was nowhere to be seen. I found my breath as I leaned against the wall in the voluminous main room.
My cell phone buzzed in my jeans’ pocket. I fished it out and peered at the screen. I expected it to be Krissy, wondering what took me so long.
The screen displayed the name “Jerry Stein”. Why the heck was Jerry calling me on a Friday night? He was the front desk manager at the Greymore Hotel where I worked three nights a week, usually Monday to Wednesday, never Fridays. The skin prickled on the back of my neck.
“Yea Jerry, what’s up?”
“Oh, thank God I caught you, Dani. I have a situation and need you to come to work and cover the Front Desk ASAP. Kim just called; she had an accident and can’t make it. You have to fill in. Can you be here in an hour?”
Right! Accident my ass, like the only accident happening to Kim was Jerry falling and “accidentally” landing with his dick into her. The two of them were fucking and Kim now had Jerry wrapped around her little finger, a trapped married man.
“Sorry Jerry. Can’t make it. I’m at a party at the other end of town.” I held the phone up in the air so it would capture the explosive roar from the crowd.
“Listen, Dani.” The phone distorted as his voice rose in a desperate pitch. “You have to come. I’ll make sure you get paid double-time for tonight.”
I pressed my lips into a hard straight line. I didn’t want to go into work on a Friday night, but I needed the money badly.
“Okay, I’ll be there but you owe me big time, Jerry, especially since it is Friday night. This isn’t the first time I’ve jumped when you were in a bind.” I shoved my hand through my long black hair and scanned the place for the exit doors to the outside. “I need to call a cab to get out of here. I’m somewhere in The Bronx. I’m not walking outside alone”
“Yeah , yeah, yeah. Watch your attitude. I’m still your boss, you know… The Bronx? What the hell are you doing there?”
“That’s really none of your business, Jerry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I ended the call without a goodbye and shoved the phone in my purse, then headed toward Joey and Krissy to let them know I was leaving.
Part of me was glad to get out of this testosterone palace for the night. It was doing unexpected things to my body, churning up hormones I thought I had under control. Another part of me wanted to stay and get a closer look at that hot body I had just seen. He was about to fight next I was sure of. But I couldn’t afford to turn down an extra three-hundred dollars. I dialed the number I had stored in my phone for the cab company. They were not happy about picking me up at this location but after some serious pleading, I was told it would take fifteen minutes for the cab to arrive.
I went to say goodbye to Joey and Krissy and bee-lined it toward the front exit where I waited for the cab. As soon as I heard the familiar sound of a cab horn blaring, I kicked the door open and a blast of the cold night air hit my face as I stepped onto the gum stained sidewalk. Minutes later, safe in the backseat of the cab, I was on my way to the Greymore Hotel.

Hope you enjoyed the preview. Pure Temptation will be available Friday the 13th of December.
Eve xx

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Fearless - Jesse Book 2 Is Now Live!!

Woohoo! Fearless - Jesse Book 2, the anticipated follow-up to my NY Times bestseller, Breathless, is now LIVE on Amazon and B&N. Get your copy here:

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/16MB0fl
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1doIjTY
B&N (Nook): http://bit.ly/17iECdl

Monday, August 12, 2013

Fearless Prologue

Hope you are ready for a taste of Fearless - Jesse Book 2. How about the entire prologue? 
We meet Jesse's mom, Emily, back from when Jesse was just a kid. Hope you enjoy it. 
Disclaimer. This is not edited yet 


Prologue – The Fourth of July 1996


“What the hell are you doing, Emily?” Frank barked, too loudly as usual. “Who’s this asshole? Your secret lover, the one you’ve been sneaking around with?” He leaned his face, red from drinking, into mine. The stench of hideous bad breath mixed with alcohol filled my nostrils.

I pulled back, wrinkled my nose in distaste and took a breath. “Shut up, Frank. You’re embarrassing yourself.” 

I had been casually chatting with a male guest at my best friend, Lisa’s, Fourth of July party. Two hours into the event, my stupid ass of a husband trashed my conversation, drunk and made a fool out of himself. Again. This was the very reason why we rarely got out and socialized.

My new acquaintance I had been chatting with, paused in mid-sentence and threw his hands in the air, still clasping to his drink. I gave him an apologetic look. He shook his head as he started towards the people milling around the pool bar, women in bathing suits covered with sassy-sarongs tied around their hips, men gesticulating with drinks in hand and kids, cannon balling into the water. 

Lisa and her husband owned a beautiful Tudor style house on expansive grounds, with lavishly landscaped gardens and a pool, in the affluent area of Thunder Ridge in upstate New York.
The outdoor bar on the pool deck was stocked with every alcoholic beverage imaginable and Frank had already sampled too many. No surprise to me. He’d made a beeline for the bar as soon as we had arrived; smirking when he discovered it was stocked with Heineken instead of his usual cheap brand. Didn’t matter the brand, beer would always wake up the green-eyed monster in him. Every time.

“I’m fucking leaving. I’ve had enough of this shit. You coming?” he said.

Sourness stung in the pit of stomach. “No, Frank. We just got here. We never go out anymore and I’d like to have a fun Fourth of July for once.”

“Suit yourself,” he snorted. “I’m fucking out of here. You and your boy toy over there will have a better time with me gone anyway.” He waved his beer can in the air and gave me a watery-eyed glare.

“Just go, Frank. I’m sick and tired of your bullshit drunken behavior every time we go out. But don’t drive. Call a cab.”

“I’ll drive if I want to.”

He swung around to leave and I grabbed hold of his arm. “Frank! Give me the keys.”

He wrenched free and shoved me hard. I teetered and reeled back, the solid wall of the house kept me from completely landing on my back. There were at least sixty potential witnesses at the party. But no one saw.

“Fuck off, bitch!” He tipped his head back to drain the last swallow of beer and stumbled into the house.

Frank was such a jerk every time we were out in public, especially if he imagined, in a fit of jealousy, that I flirted with other men. And honestly, he wasn’t exactly a prince at home either.

I pondered for a second to go after him, force him to hand over the car keys, but knew it would be hopeless and most likely I’d end up on the receiving end of a black eye. Maybe a patrol car would pull him over and arrest his sorry ass. That would teach him a lesson.
I would never call the cops on him though. We needed him, or rather, we needed his income to pay the bills. Things had been tough lately, not only with our marriage, but also financially. Three months ago I was laid off from my job as a secretary and Frank’s contractor job…well, let’s just say it didn’t bring in much. With two kids and Frank drinking up half his paycheck, there wasn’t much left over. We ate a lot of Hamburger Helper, minus the hamburger. If only drinking was a job, then we’d be millionaires. 

I bolted into the house to the family room where I last had seen Jimmy and Jesse, our two boys. I prayed that Frank wasn’t serious about driving. I decided to give another shot at getting the car keys before he could hurt himself, or even worse, hurt someone else. 
I rounded the corner that led into the kitchen and stopped up short right in Lisa’s face. “Hey Lisa, have you seen Frank?” I asked out of breath.

“Yeah, I think he just left with your boys.” She blinked, bewildered.

“He took Jimmy and Jesse? Why didn’t you stop him?” A hot bolt of fear tore through me like wildfire. 

“Well, I’m sorry, Em. I was just about to come and find you… he seemed really upset--”

I flung open the front door and sprinted past several parked cars, down the long curving driveway. Thank god. Frank was still there fumbling with the key, unable to sink it into the ignition of our old beater car. Jimmy and Jesse were sitting in the backseat and Frank was up front in his reckless drunkenness, lolling from side to side searching for the keyhole. I jerked open the front driver’s door.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you out of your mind taking the kids with you when you’re stupid drunk like this?” I turned to the kids. “Jimmy - Jesse. Get out of the car. Now!” I yelled.

Jimmy opened the backseat door and pulled Jesse out with him. I shut it and guided the kids behind my back to safety, using my body as a shield, as I backed away from the car.

“You fucking cunt!” Frank screamed and slammed his door shut.

Once I got a couple yards away from the car, I turned around and hustled the kids inside the house. With my back against Lisa’s front door, I sucked in a deep breath of relief, and encircled both arms around my two little angels, tears stinging my eyes. 


“Jesse, did you brush your teeth yet?” I called up as I ascended the stairs to put the kids to bed.

“Just two more minutes, mom. Can I stay up a little longer? Pleeease…” 

Jesse‘s eyes adored me. I ran my hand over his hair, down the side of his sweet, innocent face, cupping his chin in my hand. “No baby. Even though it’s the Fourth of July, it’s time to get to bed. Go on. Get going.” 
I bent down and gave him a kiss on the top of his head as he buried his pouting face in the soft cotton of my T-shirt. It would be only a matter of minutes before Jesse would be peering at dirt-bike magazines with a little clip-on light he had fashioned himself from various junk items he found at the basement workbench. 
Jesse had been infatuated with dirt-bike magazines ever since last summer when his dad and his Uncle Kenny took the two boys to the Motocross races and Jesse immediately fell in love with anything that had to do with motorcycles. Of course, Kenny covered the cost of tickets and treats at the race, it was his idea to take them anyway. That darn Kenny.

I chuckled as I laid my hands on Jesse’s shoulders. I turned him around and marched him into the bathroom.
“Teeth, mister.” Handing him the toothbrush, I cracked a smile and dug my fingers into his sides. 

“Stop mom!” Jesse wrenched and squealed. “Don’t tickle me…”
I let loose of him and caught the reflection of my face in the mirror. Brushing my hair aside, I dabbed a fingertip of extra makeup to hide the purple and red bruises on my forehead and rearranged my bangs to cover them. Jesse finished brushing his teeth just as the doorbell rang.
His little blue eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s daddy?”

I ushered my youngest into bed and trotted down the stairs. Knots formed in the pit of my stomach with each descending step. 
I stood up on tiptoes and looked out the small glass window in the door. My peering gaze was met by the somber faces of two police officers standing on the front porch wearing dark blue uniforms. I flipped the deadbolt on the heavy wooden front door and opened it a crack. 

“Yes…?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Hello ma’am. Are you Emily Morrison?”

My lower lip quivered and I stepped back allowing the door to swing open wider. “That’s me. Something wrong officers?”

“Is your husband Frank Morrison, ma’am?”

“Yes…” I pulled at the fabric of my dark T-shirt with white knuckled hands, twisting it into nervous, angular pleats.

“I’m afraid we have some terrible news. Your husband was involved in an automobile accident this evening. His vehicle ran off the road, hit a tree straight on…he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. His body was thrown out, head first, through the windshield. I’m afraid he died instantly. We’re so sorry, ma’am.”

That day, The Fourth of July 1996 was the day the earth stood still and fell out from under me.

Hope you enjoyed it. Fearless will be released August 28th.

Monday, August 5, 2013

Breathless Is Now A New York Times Bestseller!

So excited to share that my New Adult novel Breathless, has entered the New York Times Bestseller Ebook list at number 22 this week. It also entered the USA Today Bestseller list and The Indie Reader Top 10 Indie Books Bestseller list. Life couldn't be more amazing. Thank you so much everybody <3

Saturday, August 3, 2013

Sign Up For a Review Copy (ARC) Of FEARLESS!

If you are a book blogger or a Goodreads user with a large following, you can now sign up for a ARC of my upcoming book FEARLESS, the follow-up to the NY Times bestseller, Breathless. Just go here and fill out the form: http://bit.ly/ARC-FEARLESS

Monday, July 29, 2013

Cover Reveal Fearless

I'm so excited to reveal the cover of Fearless - Jesse Book 2. I love this cover. His eyes just drag you in. What do you think of it?

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

20,000 copies of Breathless sold!

I am so excited. Today I reached 20,000 copies sold of Breathless and right now the book is number 29 on Amazon's Top 100 bestseller chart. I am so grateful to everyone who bought and read my book. I'm also excited to tell you that I am in the last phase of writing Fearless, the followup to Breathless. In two weeks it will be going to my editor so be sure to set your calender for August 28th when Fearless will be released :)

Saturday, July 13, 2013

New Cover for Breathless

Check out my new cover of Breathless in the same style as the upcoming Fearless cover. Hope you like it. :)

Saturday, July 6, 2013

$150 New Adult Gift Card Giveaway.

Want to win a $50 dollar Amazon Gift card? Enter now for a chance to win one out of three 50 dollar gift cards. To celebrate the summer is here, not only can you win a $50 Amazon Gift card to fill up your kindle, but also, for a limited time, get my new sexy hot novel "Breathless" for only $0.99, normally $2.99. Hurry now and grab the book before it goes up in price. Best of luck!!

Buy Links $0.99:
Breathless Amazon US (Kindle)
Breathless Amazon UK (Kindle)
Breathless Barnes And Nobel. (Nook)

Fearless Blurb

The writing of Fearless - Jesse book 2 is going really well and I can comfortably promise that it will be released September 1st 2013. Today, I have been working on the blurb and I'm excited to reveal some of what you will find in Fearless. I am still tweaking the blurb before release, but excited to hear what you think of it. The book is already listed on Goodreads, so be sure to add it now.

Fearless (Jesse, #2)

Fearless - Jesse Book 2

I am strong, because I've been weak. I'm fearless, because I've been afraid. I'm wise, because I've been foolish.

Life is looking up for Jesse. With expert help from Chase, his injuries are healing and he makes preparations to enter the Pro motocross circuit again. A decision that could force Niki to make a difficult choice. 

Kenny starts chemotherapy treatments but his bar, Rookies, is hurting from the lack of attention and lack of customers. As Jesse and Niki work to find a way to keep the bar from going under, life throws other obstacles in their way. From a manipulative dad and flirtatious step mom, to news from home about Jesse's mother that lands them in New York state in search of answers from the past. Dark secrets that were never meant to be revealed.

Fearless (Jesse, #2)

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Breathless Now Available

The young, hot professional Motocross rider, Jesse Morrison, knows how to leave an impression. Except lately, it has mostly been bad impressions. Frustrated and wounded, he surrounds himself with women, booze and drugs, until one day, he finds himself in a world of trouble. Kicked out by his brother, he relocates to California for the summer to help his uncle open Rookies, a local sports bar.

In Santa Monica, Jesse meets the one woman who can lead him back on the right path, the beautiful 22 year old, Niki Milani. Only problem, she is not interested. Niki has her own demons to fight. A past that left her emotionally abandoned by her own blood, her father. She keeps her heart guarded and finds it difficult to trust a man again. Especially not a bad boy player who is even more messed up than her. However, Jesse never backs down from a challenge. Blinded by a sizzling attraction, he is determined to prove to Niki that there is more to him than what appears on the surface. That he is the one who can heal her heart.

The story of Jesse and Niki is a New Adult Romance that will leave you breathless.

Get it here:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00DH6IFSS
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1115718678?ean=2940016711256

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Breathless - Chapter 1

Hey guys. I'm excited to show you the first chapter of Breathless. Hope you'll like it. Warning, adult language and sexual situations. 17+ only. The book will be out on Amazon and Barnes & Noble June 19th. iTunes and Kobo to follow shortly after.

Chapter 1 – Wet BJ

“What the fuck are you doing, pervert? Get your hands off my girl.”
The hot breath of a large hairy dude was blasting in my face, smelling like shit on stick. I pulled myself out of the girl’s embrace and rolled to my right. Leaning on the cheap plywood bar to steady my woozy legs, my heart was shooting blood to the body parts needed, in case I had to beat the living shit out of this fucker. Adrenalin was spiking like wildfire throughout my system.
“Mind your own business, asshole. Get the fuck out of my face.” I turned my attention back to the girl I was getting close and personal with. Looking like the usual small town bar girl with her dark rimmed eyes, long false lashes, and full cherry red lips that moved around the straw in her drink. Lips that made my cock rock hard.
The high had kicked in ten minutes ago with a line of white in the bathroom stall followed by three neat shots of Fireball whiskey. My buddy, Chet, had won a local motocross race and we were here at the Oxford Tap in upstate New York to celebrate. Not like I needed an excuse to shoot coke and down Fireballs, or any booze for that matter. My life sucked. It sucked balls, big time, but right now all I cared about was how I was going to smash this ugly dude’s face three quarters of the way to the crapper.
The hairy bastard plowed past the ditsy bar girl who got in his way on his trek to find a place for his fist to sink into my face. Chet, my wingman had disappeared. Out back somewhere with his tongue halfway down the throat of some young chic fresh out of high school with a fake ID. I shouldn’t have been so outspoken, but I couldn’t help my drunken self. I’m pretty damn charming after downing a few brews, if I don’t say so myself.
Fearless, I jutted my chin out towards his face and wrinkled up my nose, “Fuck that stinks. Dude, your breath smells like a dog just took a dump in your mouth.”
“You’re a dead man, mutha-fucka,” he raged at me, struggling to get through the packed crowd.
The confrontation between the Beast and I didn’t go unnoticed. Two bouncers were already shoving their way past the standard Saturday night regulars, their radar set on us.
The room was spinning. Bodies jammed into the small dreary, beer stained area of the local watering hole in this small shit-hole of a town. I didn’t care if the Beast hit me or not. I welcomed the thought of the pain of his blows. At least it would blur out the pain in my soul. I teetered. My alcohol induced, unstable balance may have been an advantage. I staggered out of the Beast’s line of fire, just long enough for a strong hand to grab a fist full of my jacket collar from the rear. A heavy hand pulled me down and to the side, pummeling me through the bodies in the crowd. Their drinks crashed to the floor and liquid libations flew through the air, as someone dragged me by the scruff of my neck out the back door of the bar. The same large hand shoved me past the girl I had been chatting up, and I slurred, “Meet me at my truck in the parking lot.”
“Shut the fuck up Jesse!” A gruff voice barked out. I knew all the bouncers at the Oxford Tap.
“Manny? Is that you, bro?” In my drunken stupor I couldn’t quite tell who had a vice grip on my arm, but now I was pretty sure it was my old friend Manny. Manny, the bouncer, to the rescue again. Or so I thought.
Crap. He was throwing me out.
“Dude, you got the wrong guy.” I gave a wink and a “call me” gesture to the girl gaping at the scene unfurling in front of her dainty face. Nice perky tits bouncing under her top as she walked. Or talked.
“Just saving you from getting your ass kicked again, Jess,” Manny puffed, maneuvering his 350 pound frame towards the back of the bar, flinging me around like a rag doll.
“Fuck that. I can take care of myself Manny. No need to get all violent on me.” But I couldn’t take care of myself. No way in hell. My motto was to “get fucked up and score as much pussy as possible. Life is short”.
Tomorrow, I won’t even remember the girl’s name, hell in ten minutes I won’t remember her name. What the fuck was her name?
Manny shoved me out the back door and threw me into the alley, letting go of me just in time to send me grinding into the hard cold pavement. Landing hard, sliding, the rough texture of the cement shaved the top layer of my skin from my face, right about the cheekbone area. Small pebbles of grit wedged themselves into the flesh of my face, small enough that I’m sure I would inflict further pain on myself later, just trying to dig them out with tweezers. My skin peeled, my flesh oozed bright red blood.
That’s gonna leave a scar.
Pain signals, fresh and crisp, spiked, like razor sharp lightning into my brain. Hurting like a muther fucker, even in my high and alcohol induced haze. But I didn’t give a fuck. I welcomed the pain, no, I savored the pain. As I lay on the ground, my swollen and skinned face absorbed the hardness of the concrete and my eyes rolled back into my head. I just wanted to feel the moment. In my suck ass life, at least for one instant, the pain reminded me of something - I was still alive.
I groaned.
“God damn fucker, Manny.”
I reminded myself to kick his ass the next time I saw him. We were friends back in high school and used to sneak under the stadium bleachers at night to drink beer. Now I drank the hard stuff and he’s a washed up small town ex-football star, throwing drunks like me out of this crappy bar.
My face.
I groaned again and pulled my hands up to my chest. Planting both palms down on the concrete, I attempted to push myself up onto my hands and knees. My stomach wrenched. I hung my head and closed my eyes. It was splitting apart from the inside out, a jackhammer pounding a hundred miles an hour. I shook my head in an attempt to stop the bile from rising in my esophagus, but the shaking motion just provoked the jack hammering.
Where’s my damn truck?
I stalled on my hands and knees, hoping to find a small remnant of stability. Crawling over to the brick wall of the building, I used it’s firmness to help me climb to my feet. Where the fuck had I parked my damn truck? I leaned my back against the cold brick wall, patting my jean pockets with bloody knuckled hands, for the familiar lump of my truck keys.
Fucking A. I sniffed, rubbing the back of my hand against my good cheek and pushed off the wall. I steadied myself with one hand against its surface and fished the keys out of my jeans’, squinting, as my left eye was swelling shut.
I can do this. I can make it to the truck. Just put one foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other...
I staggered off in the direction of my truck, or what I thought was the direction of my truck. Every step sent new shards of pain throughout my body. Didn’t give a fuck. I had it coming to me. I was just a big screw up anyway.
Shaking fingers pressed frantically at the buttons on the black key fob. A shrill metallic sound blast ripped the airwaves, making my ears bleed. Fuck! I hit the alarm button by accident. The truck horn blared loud enough to wake the dead, splitting my head into a million pieces.
Pounding the key fob buttons again, I smashed at the damn device with my thumb, trying to make this acoustic nightmare stop. Whichever bastard invented this annoying feature deserves a swift kick in the balls. Twice.
I jabbed it enough times that the truck horn stopped. But my head didn’t stop, it kept on going and going, pounding and pounding. Slumped up against the driver’s side, I hunched my torso over the shiny black surface as much as I could. I paused there for a few minutes waiting for the world to right itself on its axis and my breathing to regulate.
My truck - she’s a beauty. Raised, big monster wheels. An F-150, 4x4, full bed of course. Any man who doesn’t have a four-wheel drive pickup truck is a pussy. I stroked the door handle and smooth surface of the side door panel.
My old friend Jack was in the console, or somewhere inside.
I fumbled with the door, cringing in pain with each strain of my sore muscles and swollen hand. Finally, it opened and I fell into the driver’s seat sprawled out on my back with my legs still dangling out the door. Reaching my good arm out, I groped around the front seat for the bottle of Jack Daniels I had left there earlier.
Where the hell you at, Jack? Stretching and pulling myself further into the cab of the truck on my stomach, I searched around the floor board area. Bingo. Hello Jack ole buddy. Come to daddy. Downing a large gulp of my fiery friend, I hissed with clenched teeth at the familiar sting in my throat.
Damn, that feels good.
I slouched into the cushions of the truck seat, bottle in hand, poised to drink myself into oblivion. I snorted and licked my lips. The salty mixture of sweat and booze assaulted my taste buds. I didn’t care. I’d drink my Jack one way or the other. My head fell back against the headrest of the seat. It felt like the seat swayed and shifted beneath me. Slow or fast, it didn’t matter. I was down for the ride wherever it took me.
Shame about losing the girl. I liked her scent. Cute too. Seemed like a girl that was up for having some fun. The type of girl that spent most nights trolling from one bar to the next, making herself too available for the wrong guys. Those “no good” guys. Guys like me. I didn’t know if she was that hairy bastard’s girl or not but I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted to see my dick in her mouth and her head bobbing up and down between my legs.
As I laid there with my eyes closed, fantasizing about bobbing heads, I heard the crunch of light footsteps on gravel, approaching my truck. The sound stopped just outside the door that stood open. Who the hell was bothering me now? If I don’t move, they might think I’m passed out. Or dead. Dead would be better. If only I were dead. The silence of the darkness swallowed me for a minute, the truck seat bucked, or so it seemed and the silence broke.
“Hey there.” The trill of a female voice invaded by foggy senses. I rolled my head to one side and lifted it off the headrest just enough to get a look at girl behind the voice, squinting with one eye open. “Um, you okay?” the voice continued.
My gaze met a pair of black rimmed, wide eyes blankly staring up at me. Ah, it’s the giggling tit girl from inside the bar, still sucking on that straw. Damn those lips were hot. “Hey yourself.” I tried to sit up, wincing in pain. “What are you doing out here?”
“Um, you told me. You know...at your truck.” She twisted side to side, still holding onto her drink glass. She pinched the straw between her thumb and forefinger, letting it rest for a moment on her lower lip as she spoke. She rolled her eyes in the direction of the bar and then my truck, outlining the path from there to here with her eyes.
Sharp memories of why I landed on my ass on the pavement sliced into my brain. “Shit, your boyfriend is not gonna come out here and go all Frankenstein on me, is he?”
She shrugged her shoulders, still twirling the straw between her fingers, never letting it lose contact with her lower lip. Or tongue. “He’s an asshole.” She sucked in her cheeks. “You’re hot. I like your hair. I like how it falls in your eyes. Is that a tat?” She pointed with her chin at my bicep, the drink straw still attached to her mouth.
“Uh, yea?” What else would it be? “Why don’t you hop up in here? Join me for a drink.” I held the bottle of Jack up in the air, gripping the glass neck of it with my good hand.
She shrugged again, cocking her head to the side and let loose of her straw long enough to run her hand through her long, over processed bleach blonde hair. She threw one last glance back over her shoulder towards the bar and disappeared around the front of the truck, popping up outside the passenger side door. I leaned over with a groan, shifting my bottle of jack to the other hand, and jabbed the door handle open. Climbing up into the cab, her perky tits bounced as she adjusted herself on the seat. She was petite. Big eyes, big tits, and wet lips begging for me to be impulsive.
Extending the bottle in her direction, our eyes locked in a rock solid stare. She tipped her head back and took a long slow swig without taking her eyes off of me. I pushed up the center console armrest to make the front seat a bench and slid over next to her. I watched her lick her plump lips with the tongue I had designs on. That tongue was mine. It would taste like Jack Daniels. I wanted it in my mouth. I moved closer. My face was inches from her lips. I smelled the heavy scent of her cheap perfume. She lowered the bottle from her lips, leaving her mouth open, inviting, still gazing into my eyes. Her wide brown eyes didn’t seem to notice the blood stained gash on my face. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth, wetting her lower lip. My cock twitched in response.
She stared at me with those eyes and said, “Hey, wanna fuck?”
Oh yea, game on.
Sliding my hand around the back of her neck, I filled my fist with her long loose hair and pulled those wet lips onto my mouth, firm and hard. Full lips filled my mouth, with the flavor of Jack and her fruity cranberry drink, which I sucked off her teasing tongue. I shoved my other hand up under her loose top searching for the warmth of those perky tits I had envisioned earlier. She pawed and scratched at my chest, pulling and tugging at my t-shirt. She shoved her hand in my crotch as she swirled her tongue deep in my mouth. My cock raged hard and ready, her hand squeezed at it through my thick jeans. Oh yea, baby. I needed more of that, but without the jeans. I sucked her plump lower lip and drew it between my teeth, as I pulled back to readjust my position to get down and dirty with this chic.
She crawled up on my lap, spreading her legs to straddle me. I slid under her and shoved her top up with one hand, pushing her tit up with the other. Her long hair fell around me as she leaned in to smash her mouth onto mine, panting, rocking and grinding on my lap. I tore at her bra, pushing and pulling the fabric, reaching with my mouth to find a dark circled nipple. Damn, she’s hot. Her wrenching and grinding moves were making me harder. The firm nub of her nipple rewarded my tongue and I sucked and flicked across it. Her hands couldn’t find my hard cock fast enough, as she tore open my belt buckle. I was unzipped in a flash. Heavy breathing filled the cab of the truck with hot vapors. She ripped open my jeans and grabbed my cock, wrapping her warm, small hand around it. Grabbing her face with both of my hands, I shoved her head down to it. She went willingly. I threw my head back, and sucked in a quick breath as those hot wet lips closed around my cock. That’s a girl.
“Suck it baby,” I whispered. I held her; my hands tangled in all that blonde hair, and watched her head bob up and down on my dick.
I heard a noise.
Jesus fucking Christ. Who the fuck would ruin a good blow job?
Someone was crashing my party here in the cab of my truck with Little Lu Lu.
Shit. I opened my eyes to the awareness of a large, angry looking dude swarming my truck. Beast Master of the Universe had realized Cha Cha was missing and came out to find her. I was remiss in my duties as a gentleman and had forgotten to get her name. Ah, but now we were about to be introduced.
“Carrie. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She screamed.
“Get the fuck out of that truck,” he yelled. His face screwed up in anger. “And you, dick head. You are a dead man!”
Damn, this dude was pissed. Maybe Lucy, or Carrie, was his girl after all? I had her pegged for the town tramp.
“Fuck off, Brian. You don’t own me.”
“Get your ass out of that truck. I’m tired of you yanking me around every time we have a fight.”
Oh fuck, a lover’s quarrel and I’m the lucky asshole caught in the middle. His ugly face was screaming at my passenger door window. The door yanked open and in one swift pull, Beast Master snatched the girl. She squealed and wrenched, as he tore her slight body from the truck by her one arm.
“You asshole. Get your hands off of me,” she screamed.
“I can’t believe you were sucking this guy’s dick. You’re nothing but a fucking whore.”
The Beast was fuming and before I could intervene, he hammered her so hard she went flying into the ditch.
“Hey, what the fuck, dude. You don’t hit a lady like that,” I yelled as I stumbled out of the truck. Before I had a chance to throw a punch at the fucker, two guys grabbed both my arms.
Fuck! The Beast had brought back-up. This was not going to turn out well.
“Hallelujah. So you’re going to defend the lady's honor. How heroic. Only problem here is, she is no fucking lady. She is nothing but a stupid whore.”
Oh shit. Hairy Beast was a psycho lunatic. The arrow on the pain-o-meter in my brain arched to the “high level” mark when his two buddies pulled hard on my already sore arm, attached to my already sore shoulder. I think I may have squealed like a girl. Both brutes had a solid grip and stood me up in preparation to be a human punching bag for Beast Master number one. I figured my life was pretty much over now. No need to worry about racing motocross again. Now I could be a whiny bitch about not being able to breathe ever again. Shit! What have I gotten myself into?